


The Bonds Of Fate

by InquisiAzrael



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Comfy Humor, Dragon Age Quest: The Wrath of Heaven, Gen, Pre-Relationship, Semi-Awkward, introductions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-17
Updated: 2016-08-17
Packaged: 2018-08-09 09:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7796215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InquisiAzrael/pseuds/InquisiAzrael
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Azrael meets her two new travel companions, fellow prisoners themselves, in a sense. A cocky dwarf and quiet elf join the Outcast and Cassandra, the rag-tag group unable to start saving the world without stopping to argue a bit, and rightfully so. Frayed nerves, bitter tempers, and the Breach spitting demons and rifts everywhere, a fate Azrael was unlucky enough to land in the middle of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bonds Of Fate

The rift crackled angrily, it’s shifting expanse giving the impression of a caged beast. It hissed and squealed in protest as the Mark pulled it apart. There was a brief moment of absolute silence before it shrieked one final time and then exploded. Chunks of physical Fade were spat in all directions, like shards of biting glass.

The elf’s shouts continued to ring within her ears. ‘Quickly! Before more come through!’ His words had been hard and bracing as his lengthy fingers grappled with her thin, ravaged wrist, trying to find a hold while raising it to the rift. Instantly, a tendril of magic had lanced from the Mark, striking the tear like a serpent strikes it’s prey, prying at it before it shattered to pieces.

The force of the rift closing sent a shockwave vibrating through the air, causing those closest to stumble a step or two. Azrael gaped, wide-eyed and disquieted, her mind slowly registering what just transpired.

“What did you do?!” She cringed as the man released his grip, pulling away with crimson-stained palm. She could not help the small twinge of fear from rising into her throat as she watched him.

“I did nothing. The credit is yours.” His tone was quieter now as he caught the small flicker of fear within the Dalish’s doe-eyed stare. He took a small step back, giving ground much like an animal would when attempting to show that they meant no harm. A soft smile accompanied his words. “I simply hastened the process.”

Azrael’s brow furrowed slightly as she peered down at the mark nestled within the creases of her palm. “I did that? Er, this did? But…how?” Wow. She sounded incredibly thick, stuttering away. First impressions…got to work on those. They never seem to end well with her.

“Whatever magic opened the Breach in the sky also placed that Mark upon your hand. I theorized the mark might be able to close the rifts that have opened in the Breach’s wake.” Another small grin drifted past his lips, as though he were pleased with himself. “And it seems I was correct.”

“Meaning it could also close the Breach itself.” Cassandra stepped forward now, addressing the man. Her armor was spattered with blood, the shining metal casting a red reflection. Probably not hers, of course. Definitely not. With the way she fought? Azrael was amazed if any combatant could get beyond her shield.

“Possibly.” The elf only briefly glanced at the warrior before his eyes returned to the prisoner. “It seems you hold the key to our salvation.”

All Azrael could do was stare fixedly at the elf. Only salvation, eh? Great. No pressure. Not like anything else was on her mind. If only she didn’t have this tiresome Mark, she wouldn’t have to deal with all of this. Then again, without the Mark, she wouldn’t even be here. She would be in the arms of Falon'din as he guided her soul away from this world. Grim thought, but the truth.

“Good to know. Here I thought we’d be ass-deep in demons forever.” A husky dwarf strolled casually up to the trio, his gloved hands idly adjusting the buckles. He had been fighting alongside the male elf when Azrael and Cassandra arrived to assist.

“Varric Tethras. Rogue, storyteller, and occasionally, unwelcome tag along.” As he introduced himself he winked at Cassandra, receiving what the Dalish would call a ‘silent snarl’ in return.

Azrael had to choke back the giggle that threatened to leap from her throat as she witnessed this exchange, a small, nasal snort taking it’s place as she clamped down on the urge. The dwarf grinned in return, satisfied with her reaction. He had wheat-blonde hair, pulled back into a dignified ponytail, and a light stubble peppering his jaw, much unlike the dwarves Azrael had heard of. It looked as though Varric’s beard had fallen from his face, inhabiting his broad chest instead, which was exposed to the mountain air. Wasn’t he cold? Here he was in blistering cold and his shirt was stretched wide like it was summer. It was astonishing if he didn’t feel the chill. But what intrigued the elf most about the stocky dwarf was the crossbow attached to his back. She had never seen such a weapon, and it was practically the same size as him!

“Are you with the Chantry or…”, is all she could get out as she continued to survey the peculiar dwarf. The red shirt was throwing her off as to whether he was with the shem’s or not. Did they accept dwarves in their religion? And the jewelry adorning his neck and ears, was that a traditional Chantry garb?

A deep chuckle came from the other elf. “Was that a serious question?”

Azrael squinted at him indignantly. “Indeed it was. I am curious as to how many Chantry forces are going to be stinking up the air, and rightfully so might I add.” Cassandra scowled at her jab, but she ignored her, casting her sidelong glance on the elf. He rewarded her with a cocky smirk. She turned her nose up to him.

“All right, everyone take it easy. We’re supposed to be roasting demons, not each other.” Varric smiled, clearly entertained at his bristling travel companions. “I’m not with the Chantry. Technically I’m their prisoner, just like you. But I didn’t have much say in it.”

“Isn’t that the truth.” Azrael muttered.

 

“I brought you here to tell your story to the Divine.” Cassandra stamped forward, attempting to defend herself. “But clearly that is no longer necessary.” The warrior’s tone was dripping with contempt. It made Azrael wonder if there was more going on between the human and the dwarf as the woman stared down her nose at him. The elf smirked at the image.

“Yet, here I am. Lucky for you. Considering current events.”

The Dalish was warming up to this cocky dwarf. “It’s good to meet you Varric.” She dipped her head in greeting, a small grin plastered to her face that almost equalled the dwarf’s.

“You may reconsider that stance in time.” The elf spoke again from behind Azrael. She squinted at him indifferently. Who was this man?

“Again, we’re all supposed to be friends, remember? Let’s try to keep the nasty looks to each other. I don’t want two bickering elves at my back.” Both elves were clearly offended this time. Varric held his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. Shouldn’t have gone that far. Besides, I’m sure we’ll become great friends in the valley. “He winked at Azrael and then looked at the man behind her. “You too, Chuckles.” Azrael could not stop the satisfied grin from breaking across her face this time as Varric mockingly nicknamed the elf. She peered over her shoulder at him, noting only a resigned curving of his lips as he peered down at the dwarf.

“Absolutely not!” Cassandra rushed forward now, pushing past the Dalish to tower over Varric. She obviously didn’t want two of her prisoners buddying up. “Your help is appreciated, Varric, but-”

“Have you been in the valley lately Seeker? Your soldiers aren’t in control anymore. Without–”

As the pair bickered, a hushed voice whispered beside Azrael’s ear. “While they argue like a married couple, we should be properly acquainted.”

The Dalish spy turned to offer a sarcastic comment, but the man was already casually strolling several paces away, turning to peer back at her to she if she followed.

Casting one final glance back at the the warrior and the dwarf, Azrael began to walk cautiously up to the elf who waited patiently, his hands clasped behind his back. The Dalish paused a decent distance from the man, eyeing him warily. He didn’t seem to mind the awkward space between them as he spoke.

“We have several moments if there are to be introductions. Those two are relentless with each other.” The plaintive jest lightened the mood.

“I was hoping we would have some time to bind those wounds.” He untangled his hands from behind him, raising the red-streaked one for emphasis. He studied it as though it were some commodity. “I am disappointed, but not surprised, that your captors did not assist you sooner.”

“The perks of being an elf, I guess.” She shrugged nonchalantly. Minor abuses were a common pest for her, although she was rewarded with a chuckle from the man.

“So it seems.” He dropped his pack, rummaging through it until he found what he wanted. Some prepared elfroot and several bandages. “May I?” He held out his palm, inviting her to place her own within it.

She regarded him carefully. What was with this elf? At first he had seemed smug and apathetic, calmly insulting her in a discreet fashion, covering it up within his practiced grammar. But she had picked it out. And now, here he was, offering introductions and soft small-talk while also going out of his way to bind her injuries. She couldn’t seem to understand his character, his nature.

Finally, after mentally sizing him up, she obliged, peeling off her bracers. The bronze leather was stained a darker brown from the dried blood that had settled on the edges where they pressed against her wrists. Seeing the exposed wounds in the light revealed the extent of the damage.

Her wrists and forearms had been lacerated by the heavy, metal cuffs and then chafed raw by the scratchy ropes. Most of the wounds had crusted over in fresh scabs, but a few cuts still bled from being reopened during the fighting. Blood that had squeezed underneath her gauntlets had streaked down her arms in pale red dribbles, staining her pale skin as it dried.

Azrael stepped towards the man, gnawing on her lip as she scrutinized him through sidelong looks. He gently took hold of her right hand, careful not to rub the gashes. Turning it over, his brow furrowed slightly as he examined them. He released her momentarily and crouched beside his pack, obscuring her view from what he was doing.

The man stood and produced a cloth. It was soaked through. Even though there was no standing water, she could guess how he had dampened it. Her suspicions were confirmed as the elf took her hand once more and began cleaning away the scabs. She hissed as the freezing cloth dabbed and loosened the dried blood.

“Forgive me if it hurts, but I must clean the wounds.”

“Psh! Hurts? Nah! This is nothing.” Her bluff was strained as the man cleared away the scabs and dabbed now at the cuts themselves. She winced. “Ok, maybe it does sting a little. Plus it’s just kind of–really…cold.” She grimaced as the water trailed along her arm, the skin pebbling in response. 

A hushed laugh escaped the man’s mouth as he dutifully continued. He began wiping along the length of her forearm, clearing away the stains. Azrael bit her lip, fighting the urge to giggle. The gentle swipes of the cloth tickled the less exposed skin and the warm grip of the elf were kind of…indulging.

He looked up at her as she tried not to squirm, a faint smile tugging at his mouth. “This is becomes more difficult the more you move.”

“Sorry.” She willed herself to quit moving. Instead, she focused on the languid movements of the cloth, the tenderness of the elf’s touch and how relaxing it was after the initial sting became a numbing warmth. He must have steeped the cloth in elfroot beforehand. She shivered, closing her eyes, enjoying the light massage.

 

He began the process again on her other arm, gently dabbing at the scabs, cleaning the cuts, and washing away the stains. His eyes were focused on his work, giving Azrael a chance to really look at the elf without him seeing her stare.

He was handsome, for a bald elf. He had a finely chiseled face with high cheekbones and an exquisite jawline. His dusky eyebrows hinted what hue his hair would have been. Bright eyes that drew her attention blended with his pale complexion. He was a decently built man, larger than most male elves, and his grip was soft but firm, hinting at his strength.

Azrael felt her face become heated, the tips of her ears flushing pink as she realized she was admiring him. Her cheeks blushed a deeper shade as she became increasingly aware of his hands gently caressing her skin, cleaning away the last of the blood.

“I am pleased to see this is all that you have suffered in terms of physical harm. Aside from the mark, of course.” He had glanced up for a moment, sending Azrael’s pink face in another direction. “This may sting.” The elf began swabbing the prepared elfroot along her wrists and forearms.

The Dalish sucked in her breath, clenching her hand into a fist. She spoke through gritted teeth, “You seem to know a great deal about it all. The Breach, the mark…healing and stuff.”

“Don’t clench your hands like that. Relax and let the salve enter the wounds unhindered. The pain will subside quickly.” A breathy huff that could have been a laugh came after his words. He began unraveling pristine bandages while he spoke. "Like you, I am a mage. More specifically an apostate, although, technically all mages are now apostates. My travels allow me to learn much of the Fade, far beyond the experience of any Circle mage. Or Dalish mage for that matter.”

Azrael stiffened, glaring at the elf. He noticed, grinning disarmingly. “I am not implying that you are an inadequate magic user, I am simply stating that I have more life experience, seeing as you are still quite young.”

She wasn’t sure how to react, unable to tell if he had insulted her or not.

“I know plenty! And I’m not that young!” She pursed her lips, scowling at the elf. “I’ve seen the world traveling with my clan. And Keeper Deshanna is an excellent teacher.”

 

The man continued to encase her limb, expertly swaddling it in the soft bindings. “I mean no disrespect to you or your Keeper, but staying concealed within the forests surrounding cities and towns does not mean you have seen all of the world. And yes you are quite young, even for a mage of your talent.”

This stopped her, freezing her mouth mid-sentence before clamping it shut. He was right, of course. She had never gone into any of the shemlen cities, Deshanna had never allowed it. Only experienced hunters and the clan’s craftsmaster were able to trade with the human merchants and to learn about events in Thedas that the elves otherwise wouldn’t know about within the forests.

What had really shut her up was the man’s unexpected praise. True it was subtle, but it was enough to end the argument.

“Thank you…” She avoided looking into his eyes, frustrated that she would not triumph over their dispute, but content with his admission.

 

“Forgive me if I anger you.” He smiled softly and continued to quietly gaze at her, halting his progress with the wrappings until she looked at him. “I have not been around many individuals of late and I can…overstep sometimes. I only mean to explain my part in all of this.”

 

“So why are you here?” Azrael softened her features as the man began working again.

 

He finished the right arm and began wrapping the left, careful not to poke at the mark that glowed steadily. “I came to offer whatever help I can give in closing the Breach.”

“So you just, popped up one day? You said you had been alone for some time. Why help?”

“I had been in a village nearby, gathering news and supplies when it happened. Perhaps I assumed that my extensive knowledge of the Fade would both help and hinder. I entered Haven as both an innocent and a suspect, hoping to provide whatever services I could in explaining the Breach. On one hand, I was a ‘hedge’ mage as Cassandra described it, able to offer insight into the workings of the Veil and the Fade. On the other, I was a man who knew more than most Circle mages, and a prime suspect with extensive mastery on the Fade’s workings. You can see there is merit for concern.” He paused as a stray bandage came loose, tucking it back into place before finishing. “One hopes that those in power will remember those who helped, and who did not. But if the Breach is not dealt with, we are all doomed regardless of origin.”

The moment the words passed his lips, his eyes rose and gazed steadily at Azrael. “Men, dwarves, qunari, even the reclusive Dalish…”

The elf’s tone became hushed. It took on an odd timbre. Maybe regretful? She could see his eyes flicker back and forth, traveling along the lines of her vallaslin.

A shadow passed over his features now. His grip tightened ever so slightly on her forearm. She saw his jawline tighten as carefully masked emotions began to break free and glimmer within his eyes.

“What?” Azrael paled, doubt rising in her stomach. Was he going to blame her for the Breach as well? Maybe she shouldn’t have brought it up. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

The elf blinked, almost like he was consciously snapping out of a trance, the break in his taciturn emotions disappearing. He closed his eyes, seeming to calm himself, before opening them again, his calm mask returned once more. “Forgive me. You–you just reminded me of…something. It has been awhile since I have seen the blood writing of the Dalish.” He looked away from her, tearing the strip of binding with his teeth, tucking the end beneath the layers enveloping her forearms.

As he inspected his work, his icy eyes strolled up, briefly meeting Azrael’s before continuing in their ascent. “I see your hair has held up nicely. Well, aside from a few stragglers.”

“Were you the one who..?”

“Indeed. I guessed that you would prefer to fight with your enemy rather than your hair” An amused light pranced through his eyes, wiping away the uncomfortable scene from before.

The Dalish began to thank him when the Breach thundered and pulsed again, sending the green glow within her palm into another searing fit. She flinched, cringing as her arm spasmed. The man still gripped the wrist that sparked to life, holding Azrael steady as the episode subsided.

His hands enveloped her own as the initial pain subsided, blocking out the garish glow. “My magic can not stop your mark from growing further. For your sake, I suggest we hurry on.” Azrael felt the ache disappear as his magic pressed into her palm. She was unable to stop her cheeks from blushing, aware of how close they were.

He released her and stepped back slightly as a disgusted noise escaped a retreating Cassandra. “You win dwarf.”

Varric strolled up confidently and winked at the two elves. “I always do.”

“Come. We must get to the forward camp quickly.” The warrior’s abrupt command addressed all of them but she continued to glare venomously at the dwarf.

“Cassandra, you should know,” The bald elf drew her attention away from the beaming Varric. “The magic involved here is unlike any I have seen. Your prisoner is a mage, but I find it difficult to imagine any mage having such power.”

“Understood.” Cassandra nodded, then turned on her heel without another word. She vaulted over a decimated, wooden barrier, obviously expecting the rest to follow.

The elf turned once more to Azrael. “My name is Solas, by the way. I apologize, but proper introductions are scarce what with the Breach and every thing that is transpiring.” He began to follow the warrior, calling over his shoulder. "And I suggest keeping those bracers off!” Before disappearing over the barricade.

“And then there were two. Two prisoners, setting off to fight demons for their would-be captors. It’s the start of a heroic adventure! I’ve gotta use that!” Varric cocked his head, chuckling. “Maybe…” His rough voice made Azrael look down at the stocky dwarf. All she could do was grin sideways and shake her head.

"What? It’s kind of my thing. And besides, Bianca’s excited.” Then he too, followed the others.

“And then there was one…” She couldn’t help but mutter it to herself.

 

The elf peered down at her bandaged arms, the snug wrappings beginning to speck red at the wrists. The bleeding was light and would stop soon, but she should take Solas’s advice.

She couldn’t help but feel bound to this escapade, this fight for a cause she barely understood with individuals she barely knew. Tied to a fate that was sealed, it seemed, the moment the wrappings that now encased her forearms were sealed. She wanted to scream in frustration, but she also wanted to giggle with glee. It wasn’t everyday you traded one hell for another, and this one was beginning to look much more promising compared to her clan, although she wished she could speak to Deshanna one more time before her possible death.

She shook her head once more, clearing her mind of regretful woes as she watched Varric try to hurtle the wooden beams, fail, and then clumsily climb over. Her laughter reverberated off the rocky slopes. A pure sound on a despairing mountain. It had been awhile since she had truly laughed. Perhaps this small venture would not be so terrible.

The Dalish began to trace the group’s footsteps, but not before kicking her bloodied bracers aside. They joined the chunks of rubble and debris that littered the ground. Another piece of junk to add to the pile.

**Author's Note:**

> Now we are starting to get into it ;) With these narrative works out of the way, we can start diverging from the main events for a bit and truly meet Azrael Lavellan. If you got through the others, thanks for sticking with me!
> 
> Shout out to the lovely, glowing elf Fenris for providing that adorable quip about Varric's beard! Had to add that in somewhere.
> 
> If you enjoyed this, check out my other works as well as my tumblr - inquisiazrael.tumblr.com


End file.
